


ubi magica tenetur?

by Devona_Dil



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, SnowBaz, post-carry on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devona_Dil/pseuds/Devona_Dil
Summary: "There was a time in my life, when a delightfully stormy evening like this one, was the one thing that could quell all the unpleasant feelings born from simply being me, and leave me feeling… content… for once.But nowadays, I don't need to wait for thunderclouds to feel some semblance of happiness - I'm living with my perfect boyfriend in our atrociously undersized apartment because my unbelievably stupid boyfriend insists on paying for half himself." Years later, Simon and Baz have an apartment together. Life couldn't be better. They're happy.Until Simon receives a letter in the mail.





	

**Baz**

There was a time in my life, when a delightfully stormy evening like this one, was the _one thing_ that could quell all the unpleasant feelings born from simply being me, and leave me feeling… content… for once.

But nowadays, I don't need to wait for thunderclouds to feel some semblance of happiness - I'm living with my perfect boyfriend in our atrociously undersized apartment because my unbelievably stupid boyfriend insists on paying for half himself.

My idiot's only been working at the bakery for a few years now and barely has enough money to sustain his sour-cherry scone addiction (even  _with_  his staff discount), let alone the rent for an apartment in central London. I tried telling him I don't care about money: he threw a pair of my hundred quid jeans in my face (fair) and told me that if I wanted to live with him, we had to be partners. I may have made a few lewd jokes on just how much of a partner I actually was and all the  _giving_  (sucking) I do in our romantic relationship. He blushed in that gorgeously endearing way he does, and then we started sloppily making out until we were both dizzy.

 _Aaaaaand_  I'd better stop thinking about the way Simon's cool fingers feel tumbling through my salivating mouth... before I get too hard to walk down the street.

So, all in all, Simon's still perfectly annoying in everything he does (love love love him) and I haven't had to hide the fact that I'm a vampire in my own home for years now... I feel free. A shiver runs down my spine as I stroll on through the bustle of London. Not from the cold, of course, (perks of being a vampire) but from that warm fuzzy feeling I get every time I think of Simon (my Simon). Sometimes my mind drifts back to Watford: when I would think it the epitome of stealth to spy on a sleepy-Simon's reflection through our room's mirror. I'm man enough to admit I was abhorrently pathetic back then.

(Merlin, I am so lucky.) (Especially after yesterday!)

Stormy skies bleeding purples and greys, in a typically fitting angsty-angry way, used to calm the burning desire constantly raging through my tiny teenage body... something about finally feeling small against the backdrop of the centuries old castle and a beautifully blazing sky... I used to spend hours and days agonising over when my family would finally order me to 'make a move' on Simon (not like that); if Simon would ever realise my undying love for the boy; when _The Chosen One_ would get around to finally ending me. It was all a bit much.

Looking back, it makes me hate the Mage even more - putting all that pressure on Simon was plain cruel and unethical. We were kids. I knew I was living in hell, but I didn't have the fate of the whole fucking magical world on my shoulders (perfectly broad shoulders dusted in dozens of freckles I could just lick and nip and...). Point is I was a sad horny kid who was infatuated by another sad amazing kid, and now my life is perfect and I don't have to be sad anymore ( _I don’t_ ).

I still love storms though, instead they just remind me, again, that I can kiss Simon Snow whenever we want. The world's not ending and there's no humdrum to defeat... we can just...  _be_. I goddamn love it: our lives of rent and noisy neighbours and 'what's for tea?' We can be small. Me and Simon can have our small perfect piece of paradise with our normal, everyday worries… 

(please let us keep our everyday worries)

I sometimes still feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop – like I’ve had too much happiness and something bad is inevitably just around the corner. I’ve always felt something akin to that – like I’m just… wrong and people around me get hurt. So… Crowley… So, how dare I let myself have this joy; this life? I do not deserve it and I shouldn’t get to have it. I shouldn’t have it. It doesn’t matter that I love Simon… he deserves… he…

(‘take a breath, Baz’)

…he loves me.

Simon Snow loves me. 

Crowley, getting lost in my own thoughts is always a dangerous way for me to lose time – I’m almost home. I do this sometimes: obsess and start wandering down old trains of thought – ones that should just stay buried. Simon and I are together and are happy and I know this ( _especially_ after yesterday) and, _Merlin and Morgana_ , I need to internalise that; know it. Rather, I need to convince my anxiety, depression and insecurities that. (sigh.)

Turning the corner onto our road, I notice that it's raining. Really hard. I don't remember when it started, but I'm drenched. I guess I’ll have to ask Simon to dry me off when I get home (wink wink).

Being with Simon has saved me in so many ways, not only does he tell me to breathe when I need him to, but he has complete and total acceptance of my vampiric ways - he keeps reminding me about the positives (especially when I predictably get caught up in the horrors of my very existence) and so it's times like this, that I take a minute - to just appreciate the fact that I don't ever have to worry about being caught in the wrong clothes for a typical London day, that being rain. Muggy. City. Rain. And that being a vampire isn’t all bad, and bad things don’t always happen; and I can have a good life.

Even so, this rain did start out a bit fast - and the storm over head is really starting to swirl into an almost  _vortex_  above me. But, being the adult that I am, I just smile up at the sky, and know that in a few minutes I am going to be under a heavy blanket so warm and cozy it should be illegal. But, more than that - I am going to be snuggling up next to my boyfriend - my beautiful, infuriating, sexy boyfriend, who will smell like fresh bread and stardust (and probably sour-cherry scones, let's be honest).

Crowley, the wind is really beating down on me; I can barely keep in a straight line. I don't normally speed up for anything - I like the way people behave around me with the casual swagger I've spent years adopting from my father. ( _Everyone_  knows Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch does not hurry; never gets flustered). (Well, everyone except Simon, of course).

Ok, I'm starting to hurry up a bit now, a curl of nerves ghosting through my stomach; I can see the eye of the storm basically  _hanging_  over our apartment building – it’s only a couple of hundred meters away now. It could be a coincidence (please) and it  _could_  just be a normal storm that is hanging (so very) low in the sky. I can feel my shoes starting to slip a little on the slick pavement. I'm running now – sliding with every step, pride be damned - and then a flash of light coming from  _inside_   _our flat_  pins me to the ground. Rain is bouncing off my cold skin as I look up, flicking into my eyes and I can’t move. Memories from that night at Watford flood to the front of my mind (this cannot be happening again – that man is dead. He’s dead). It lit up a shadow against our windows.

Simon.

All of him. 

I can see the silhouette of his wings extending to touch both walls of the living room. It's my Simon and something is wrong. I can taste it now, on the air... magic. 

This isn't Penny's magic. Hers smells of sage and brownies and old books. This is... something else. Another mage? Another burst of light spurs me to action. I can feel my heart beating a mile a minute and I fly forward. 

Wrenching the front door open (not bothering with a key) I take the narrow stars two at a time, speeding up until my feet are a blur, grabbing the bend of the hand rail to spin me round each corner, further upward, not losing a second. He has to be alright (oh god oh god oh god). Simon has to be safe ( _please_ ). If  _anyone_  has touched a  _hair_  on my Simon's perfect head, I will burn the world down. I will tear their throat out. I will drain them dry. I will make them suffer. I will-

And then I'm outside our No. 23. I can see a thin strip of light stuttering through the gap under our door. Feeling my frantic pulse in my temples and ice cold fear coiled in my stomach, I open it.

 

 

**Simon**

There was a humming and thrumming in my head. Like all my thoughts have been put in a blender. I can’t think. Something is wrong with the air… and with me, but I can’t think. I’m on my knees, clutching the Polaroid in my hands like it will tell me more. _Like it will change something_.

The door opens. I look up. I notice that there’s light all around me and I don’t care.

My wings are also spread wide; I can feel the thin skin between my extra bones stretch so far it itches.

I don’t care.

Baz is here now. His wide grey eyes scan the room, then snap back to me. I can tell he’s afraid.

He reaches forward and… a surge of red-hot anger flares inside of me, and I flinch back with a snarl on my lips.

 

 

**Baz**

“Did you know?”

The question lingers in the air: Simon just flinched from me. He just  _snarled_  at me. This morning feels like a century ago – laughing like children and kissing like there was no tomorrow – I’d never been happier. (He’d finally told me-)

The room is closing in on me and I can barely breathe; I can feel cold sweat dripping down my back, I- I don’t know what’s happening. There’s no-one else in here, but it’s so bright and dense with a foreign magic I’ve never felt before, I can barely stand it. God, is he in pain? I just want to hold him, but-

“Did I know what, Simon?” I try to say as softly as I can, while adrenaline courses through my veins. Bending down in front of him, “Simon, what’s happening?”

He’s staring at something in his slender hands – I think it’s a photograph. It’s pinched at the edges where he’s held on too tight. All I know right now is that Simon is hurting, and I can feel it like a punch to the chest. Merlin, I think I can feel tears falling down my cheeks.

“Love…”

His eyes flare and something inside me cracks.

“Simon,” I try again. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening or what I’ve done. Please, tell me, talk to me.”

“I got a letter today,” he says. I can feel the barely contained rage coming off him. Literally. I don’t know what’s happening, but… I think Simon is putting-out magic, and I can feel it. But, it’s not his – his was ash and burning green (and he lost it and it still breaks my heart). This is… new and white rage. Has someone done this to him? I don’t know what is actually happening, and Simon is- I think he’s  _angry_ … with me. But, I keep my mouth shut - he’s starting to explain, and I need to know what’s happening.

“That time you lead me to the Wavering Wood, by telling me you knew who my parents were… did you actually know?” My mind’s gone blank. _The Wavering Wood_?  “Everyone knew the Mage made me his heir just too smooth things over with the Coven. Sometimes I thought I might have meant something to him… been a son to him.” He’s starting to drift out – is this about the mage? (It can’t be. He’s dead and Simon’s safe. He can’t hurt us.) His eyes snap back to mine and they’re cold. They’re cold in a way I haven’t seen them in years. I think my heart is breaking and I  _don’t know why_.

“But I didn’t think it was actually true.”

D-Did? Merlin, is Simon saying what I think he’s saying?

“The-The Mage? I’m sorry, Simon - you’re scaring me. Are you saying the mage is- is your father? I don’t-” This isn’t happening. “Do-do you know you’re- Simon, you’ve got magic.”

I don't understand. 

I need a minute. I need a minute to figure out what's happening. I need my Simon. But, none of this is making sense and - how did this happen? Yesterday was the greatest day of my life. Merlin, I was basically skipping this morning. How am I here?  _How are we here_? 

 

**Simon**

I know it’s wrong – looking at Baz like he’s evil; when he’s on his knees in front of me, crying, but I can’t think about all that right now. All I can think about is this square, grubby picture in front of me – and what it means _he did_.

He’s lied to me – for _years_. Of course he knew – Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch knows _everything_! How could I have been so _stupid_? I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry. I’m on fire - it feels like I’ve jumped in a hot bath with ice cold skin – and Baz is still staring at me with those eyes and I DON’T CARE! He _must_ have known and – I can’t think about this right now. He said I’ve got magic and I can feel it – cold and wrong and… strong. The familiarity of power is welling up inside me and I feel like I could split; burst; fail.

I cannot believe this is happening – especially after what I said this morning – he knew how much that meant to me.

(I can’t I can’t I can’t)

And so I do what I have always done – give in to my magic and stop thinking.

 

**Baz**

I’m squinting now – the magic is beating down on me so hard it’s like a physical weight. I can’t think, but I _need_ to think. Simon needs me and I need to think up a way to help him... Breathe in. Okay. We will deal with the ‘how’ later – Simon is spilling magic everywhere and he just has to calm down. I don’t know why he has magic now (whoever has done this to him _will pay_ ), but I can do this – I just need to calm Simon down. Just like I knew I could do in Watford. Everything will be fine. I will make it fine.

And then I can feel it: like the surge of a tsunami before it crashes. My stomach bottoms out and my eyes dry instantly. Simon has dropped the picture at some point and I try to look up at him, and up and up…

His wings are still spread wide, but they’re not flapping – he’s rising up into the air… just with magic. His eyes are closed. There’s no expression, but I know every muscle and movement of that beautiful face – more than I know my own – he is not calm. He’s stopped thinking; stopped fighting.  

(no no NO NO!)

“Simon!” I’m screaming, but there are waves of power rolling off him and I can’t stand up. I think I can smell my hair burning, but it’s all burning ice and I DON’T CARE! I just need Simon. I’m still screaming his name – sobs hacking through my chest. I need to save him – I can save him – I have to (it’s too much). Lucifer, my head burns – I just need to stand up and get him to calm down. I just need to talk to him (I’m worthless without him).

“Simon, _please_ ”

And then he’s gone.

 

**Simon**

I’ve disappeared.

I’m no-one.

 

**Baz**

Gone.

I drop forward, the weight of magic that was forcing me up: gone. My hands slam onto the wooden floor beneath me and my ears are ringing. I can feel the horror of his absence in my bones.

The room is so empty and cold and I am alone.

The windows have blown out and there’s glass strewn across the window ledge and I don’t care.

It’s raining on me and I don’t care.

I can't feel it.

He’s gone.

I didn’t save him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, guy’s, gals and non-binary pals! This is my first ever, legnthy, plot-y carry on fanfic!!! There is so much angst, but it will all be fluffy in the end – I promise. 
> 
> I’m just exploring what would happen when Simon gets that picture from Agatha; Simon’s trust issues and Baz’s self-esteem issues.
> 
> I originally wrote this for the Carry On Countdown Day 15/December 7th/ANGST!! prompt, on my [tumblr](http://snowbaz-just-not-today.tumblr.com/post/154158734909/carry-on-countdown-day-15december-7thangst)
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D


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